Lean on Me
by Destatikai
Summary: They were each others support systems, in their lowest and highest moments, and slowly, love came through. A collection of oneshots of JJ and Drake. Ch. 3: No, you don’t usually spy on your coworkers, no matter how outer appearances seem.
1. Long Distance

After reading Qwi-Xux's fic, _Me Without You_, I was inspired to try out one of those prompt table challenges as well, hehe. So I set off to find something and, lo and behold, found a perfect fit at the 10prompts livejournal community. So, by the time this fic is through, there should be 10 oneshots. (I think that's more fics than I've ever written!)

The moment I saw the theme for this first one, this scene just slapped me in the face; I really couldn't stop writing it once I'd started. The style's a bit different than my usual, but I hope you enjoy!

Prompt # 2: Long Distance  
Pairing: JJ/Drake  
Rating: PG  
Word Count: 696  
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own FAKE in any way, shape, or form.

- - - - -

_Bang._

A single bullet shatters the silence, cutting through the tension-charged air as it crosses the long, long distance from the rooftop of an empty, abandoned building, over the heads of the growing mass of reporters and sidewalk-gawkers and boys-in-blue, through the second-story window of a beat down apartment, to meet its target.

The bullet doesn't miss its mark.

Sharp, cerulean eyes watched as a figure – only a second before standing with a hostage before him, a gun in hand, angry, demanding, _unafraid_ – crumpled to a heap on the ground, still and quiet next to the sobbing woman crouched on the floor. He knew exactly where he had hit him; his hand had never trembled, his gaze never faltered, the air around him completely still, and the figure fool enough to stand in front of a window. He didn't have to wait to hear the confirmation of the team within, but he didn't move until his ear piece buzzed.

Target dead, hostage safe.

His hands moved with efficiency and purpose, of habit and training, disassembling his gun to once again stow in its case, piece by piece. But even with the gun out of his hands, the adrenaline continued to pound in his ears and course through his veins, the stoic and emotionless mask allowing no room for relief.

He made his way back to the precinct with the hum of the car engine and a measured pace, two steps at a time, first down stairs to hand over the growing weight in his hand, then upstairs. He vaguely heard the Chief congratulate him on a successful mission, before he finally reached the door to his and his partner's office. He pushed the door open and firmly shut it behind him.

Inside, the blonde snapped out of his thoughts, clearing his worried frown and standing from his former slouched position in his chair. His tie is loose and sleeves rolled up, jacket still hanging from his chair as a sign that he wasn't prepared to leave anytime soon despite his almost-ending shift. He looks on as the blunette pauses at the door.

Concerned gray meets emotionless blue.

But it doesn't take long for him to recognize the adrenaline begin to drain away from those crystalline eyes, the stoic mask begin to slip away.

The younger man moved away from the door and toward his desk, leaning against the front to not-quite sit. His shoulders slouch as he rests his hands on his lap. His blue hair falls across his eyes as he looks down at his hands and the ground.

The blonde released a breath he didn't know he was holding and approached his partner, coming to a stop close, in front of him. He takes the tired, unmoving hands in his strong grip and looks down at them, watching those pale hands grip his in return.

No tears fell from those blue, blue eyes this time. The criminal was brought to justice, and no innocent life was taken. But he still felt the hands tremble within his, still heard those long, deep breaths as the last of the adrenaline rushed out, taking with it the anger, worry, _fear_, that had been sitting right below the surface of his composed cover. A life is still a life, taken away in one second, with one bullet.

The blunette released a sigh, and his vice-grip loosened. The blonde gave a small squeeze, checking if he was really alright again. He finally looks up, just as his partner does so.

Concerned gray meets calm blue, a trace of the sadness still lingering around the edges.

The younger man let a small smile slip on his lips and gave a small squeeze in response, a gesture of thanks. The blonde nods in understanding, but doesn't quite let go yet, hands still resting over now-steady hands.

He holds on until he's positive that the man before him is once again his partner and not the sniper he was so trained to be. He holds on now as he has done before, as he will continue to do in the future, for as long as he is able to lend his comfort.


	2. Chocolate

Don't ask how I came up with the idea for this prompt. It was really a random thought when I was thinking about "chocolates," but I thought it fit in rather nicely, haha. I totally enjoyed writing this, though, so I hope you like it.

Thanks so much to those who have reviewed! I really appreciate the feedback.

Prompt # 1: Chocolate  
Pairing: JJ/Drake  
Rating: PG  
Word Count: 1,570  
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own FAKE in any way, shape, or form.

- - - - -

JJ Adams brought the cup of lukewarm coffee that he was about to drink away from his lips to avoid choking on the caffeine-loaded liquid. He was having enough trouble as it was attempting to stay composed and leaning against his desk instead of on the floor, laughing his head off.

Drake Parker was slumped over in his chair, not bothering to reach for his own cup of coffee sitting on his desk. His expression was a picture of miserable defeat, the dark circles under his eyes an indication that he hadn't slept the night before. Although JJ pitied the state he was in, he couldn't help but be amused at how he had gotten that way in the first place.

"How could you have known that she was allergic to chocolates," JJ said with the most sympathetic face he could muster, though internally he chuckled at the idea of the gift-gone-wrong.

"I should have just gotten flowers like I usually do. Why the hell did I get chocolates," Drake questioned himself as he shook his head in disbelief.

"_Maybe because you wanted this to turn out differently from all the rest,"_ JJ mused, but didn't say aloud. "It's really not your fault. As to the restaurant situation, I'm sure there must've been other dishes on the menu that she could've ordered." The comment earned a groan from the blonde.

"Just the _fact_ that I brought a vegetarian to a steak place was a disaster," Drake said as he slapped a hand over his eyes at the thought. "On top of all that, we couldn't find anything to talk about! And when we did, we totally disagreed. Sure, she was a pretty face, but everything else was just wrong…"

"Where did you say you met this girl again?"

"Blind date. One of Janet's friends."

JJ almost dropped his coffee from the sudden revelation. Maintaining his grip, he took the opportunity to safely place the cup on the table, just as Drake finally reached to take a drink of his.

"You actually trusted Janet to match you up with someone? No wonder it was a disaster," JJ replied, lips fixed into a smirk.

Drake glared across the top of his cup as he took another sip. "Well, I'm glad someone finds the whole situation funny."

JJ let out a sigh, and a more sympathetic expression easily slipped back onto his face. He pushed away from his desk and crossed the short distance to Drake's, taking a seat on the only corner not covered with paperwork to face his partner.

"Then don't bring chocolates next time. Or better yet, don't trust Janet again. At least you learned something," the blunette answered.

The blonde abruptly put his cup back down to run a hand through his hair. "It's not even about the damn chocolates or the terrible date anymore. No, it _is_ about the date, but… I mean… it's been _weeks_ since I've had a successful date. A successful _first_ date," Drake said in a frustrated growl.

"Aw, c'mon, I know I've probably said this a lot before already, but there are so many other fish in the sea…"

"That's just it. Maybe I'm just too small a fish for such a big sea. Maybe I'm just…" Drake sighed as he looked down, further slouching in his chair.

JJ turned his head to properly look at his partner, startled by his last statement. Drake had talked to him of failed dates and relationships before – many, many times before – and had even joked about his luck with women, but never before had he voiced serious disbelief in himself. But this time, Drake's expression, attitude, whole _aura_ just spilled defeat and disappointment in himself.

As Drake sat unmoving in his seat, JJ took the time to study his partner. His jacket was off, hung on the chair behind him as it usually was. His sleeves were unrolled and tie still properly tight despite his total lack of enthusiasm with work, though JJ couldn't think of any time Drake was excited about paperwork. Though a bit unruly, his blonde locks were mostly swept back from his habit of running his hand through his hair. And even though a tired expression remained on his face, JJ knew that just a smile would chase away those dark circles and bring back more of his handsome charm, not to mention warm the mood instantly. _"He would clean up pretty nicely,"_ JJ thought before pushing it to the back of his mind. He looked away before speaking again.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with the fish at all. Maybe he's just swimming in the wrong places."

JJ felt Drake's eyes lock onto him as he suddenly sat up. The blunette turned to the blonde again and was met with an intense gaze from stormy gray eyes. A question played in those eyes, and he wasn't quite sure what to answer to them. Seconds ticked by as their gaze lingered. JJ instinctively gripped the edge of the desk on either side of his knees.

Both broke the connection at the same time, turning their heads away from each other. JJ pushed off from the desk to stand, still looking away from his partner. He nervously cleared his throat before speaking again.

"What are we doing, talking about fish," he attempted to joke. "Coffee break's over, so we should get back to work…"

"Yeah, yeah we should," responded the blonde. The blunette could hear him straighten up in his chair as he walked back to his desk.

Suddenly, the door to their office opened as Dee popped his head in.

"Hey, Drake! Me, Ryo, Ted, and Marty were plannin' to meet up at the bar tonight. Wanna join?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Uh… I guess your partner could come if he wants…"

"I'll be there."

Apparently, Dee noticed the strange lack of enthusiasm from them both and – with a last suspicious glance at each – shut the door again.

"I think we've scared him off," Drake remarked with a small smirk. JJ just shrugged and returned it with a smirk of his own as he felt the awkwardness in the room dissolve.

x x x

It just figured that he'd be sitting in the bar alone. Dee was clearly absorbed with Ryo at the pool table, giving playful touches that his partner didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, JJ could read the tenderness in Ryo's eyes at whatever Dee was saying. He looked away quickly before a familiar feeling could well up in his chest. Ted was attempting to chat up some girls, as usual, while Marty sat nearby laughing at all of his corny pick-up lines. JJ turned back around to take a drink from the beer in front of him.

"Not jumping Dee tonight?"

He looked over his shoulder to meet the familiar voice as the blonde took a seat next to him.

"Late as usual, Drake Parker," responded the blunette with a quiet laugh.

"Hey, hey, I'm not late for everything," quipped Drake as he rolled his sleeves up and loosened his tie. JJ let him settle in with a drink before answering his earlier question.

"Nope. I don't want to get thrown out. Besides, he seems a little wrapped up anyway."

"Hm," he replied in affirmation as he glanced at the happy couple, an apologetic frown on his face when he turned back to JJ. "So then why…"

"Well, someone has to make sure that you don't go overboard in trying to drink away memories of chocolate allergies and vegetarians," JJ cut him off, amusement clearly glistening in his blue eyes. Drake responded with a huff at the reference to his disasterous date, before he finally let himself chuckle at the memory.

As they continued their conversation over a couple beers and a shot each, JJ noticed that Drake had returned to his usual, laid-back self, the disappointment from earlier gone. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol doing its work on his partner, but he decided that he liked this Drake much better, and he hoped that he wouldn't have to see doubting-Drake again. JJ also noticed out of the corner of his eye a certain brunette studying them, though he was pretty certain that she had her eye on the man next to him.

"Looks like someone has their eye on you," JJ motioned with his head, before turning back to his beer. Surprised, Drake glanced back just as she giggled to one of her friends. "Maybe you should go talk to her."

"Maybe I should…"

JJ focused his gaze on his beer, trying to hide the disappointment threatening to break through and waiting for Drake to stand up and walk back to her.

"Nah, I think I'm pretty comfortable right here for tonight," the blonde said as he shifted a bit closer to the blunette, causing JJ to look up with widened eyes. Drake was giving a warm, slightly embarrassed smile to the beer in his hand – not being able to look at him – as a tinge of red glowed on his cheeks. JJ could feel the heat radiating from his own cheeks as he looked back down at his beer. Another awkward moment passed before he spoke again.

"You know, if a date ever doesn't like your chocolates again, you could always give them to me."

Drake simply chuckled in response. "I'll keep that in mind."


	3. Kiss

Sorry that I've just about dropped off the face of the Earth. School has just been sapping out all of my creative juices and leaving no room for plot bunnies to come bounding into my mind.

Anyway, this little fic is one that I've been wanting to write for so, _so_ long, and I failed to even get it on paper when the original ideas were begging to come out [shame on me!] Well, lesson learned, and I finally got it back out a couple months later, through an agonizing two weeks. It's a bit different… actually, a lot different than my usual. It's in _second person introspective_ [gasp!] so I hope it's not too weird… I think it starts out rougher than I wanted, but it smoothes out as you get going. It should be pretty easy to figure out whose shoes you're in. =]

Prompt # 8: Kiss  
Pairing: JJ/Drake with a tiny bit of Ryo/Dee  
Rating: PG-13 for some swearing at the beginning  
Word Count: 1,631  
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own FAKE in any way, shape, or form.

- - - - -

Fuck.

You feel a headache slowly spread from the crown of your head, downward to a constant pulse at your temple. Your eyes are all but crossed from the sheer amount of paperwork you've been looking through, trying to find evidence supporting the connection between another loony-bin and another unfortunate corpse (when really, your instinct yells, _screams_, because it's absolutely positive that it's right, and no, you don't need all this crap).

Fucking paperwork.

With a groan, you sit up in your chair as you stretch out your back, sore from the past few hours hunched over the desk. The office is heavy from the heat held in by the closed door, the stench of old files, and just _tiredness_.

You'd blame it all on your slave-driver of a partner, you really would, but then again, you could've left to "get lunch" or to "take a smoke." It's 'cause he's too fucking gorgeous for his own good. It's 'cause you'd rather spend the day slaving away at your desk and be with him than leave without him. It's 'cause he's got you wrapped around his finger just as tightly as he's wrapped around yours, and there's no way in hell that either of you can deny it.

And you know it's true when you look up and meet your _partner's_ face, an apologetic smile set on his sexy lips, saying _Thank you for not leaving me_. And even if you are dead tired, you can't help but plaster that sleazy smile onto your own face and give a quick wink, hinting ever so obviously, _Oh, you can thank me tonight…_ His only answer is a raise of his eyebrows as he readies himself for another round of finding-a-needle-in-a-haystack.

But you're already out of focus, still have that headache, and really do need to take a smoke outside, so you stand up and make your way to the door. Your partner apparently understands as he makes no move to stop you…

And that's how you end up at the rooftop door, already slightly ajar where a soft breeze is blowing in. The sound of voices and rustling cloth stops you from fully pushing the door open, instead using the big-enough gap to look outside at who had beaten you to your retreat.

No, you don't usually spy on your coworkers, no matter how outer appearances seem. But the hushed voices and physical closeness of the pair – not to mention the cryptic messages of ink on paper waiting back at your desk – encourage you to stick around for a while longer.

Had this been any other pair, any other time, the scene could probably pass off as a simple conversation between partners, a moment's reprieve from all the assignments the old badger had been passing out. But the two filling your line of sight are guys you know too well, whose gestures and habits you've observed through the years. And this scene? This had _unnatural_ written all over it.

Now separately, the two figures wouldn't quite be so abnormal. The blonde, farthest away from you, is striking a typical pose, relaxed and leaning against the cement wall coming up to about the lower part of his chest. You recognize the position well, the curved back, hunched over as tales of girlfriends past or life in general rolled easily from this close friend. He's wearing his typical work suit, sleeves still rolled down – a sign that there was still work to be done – and forest green neck tie still tight and trapped between his broad chest and the wall. The breeze blows through his naturally disheveled hair as you notice his lips move; he's speaking, but you can't make out the words, quiet enough for the man beside him to listen, but not for the wind to carry clearly to your prying ears.

The man he is speaking to is standing closer to you, strange blue-lilac locks also tousled by the breeze. His stance is relaxed, or as relaxed as someone so prim and proper can get, with his straightened back and arms resting at his side. His brightly colored tie catches your eye, lifted by the wind and only more noticeable by the crisp white shirt acting as its background. It matches his personality, you think, the overly cheerful smiles, the exaggerated gestures, everything that has categorized him as the pain-in-the-ass of your life – though, you've noticed that he's long since stopped his puppy-dog-like following for reasons unknown.

Sure, apart, they could be completely normal, nothing else to it than that. But it's the details that offset the scene, the things that trigger your unfailing instinct telling you that you know better than that.

Although the blunette stands a little behind the blonde, the cloth at their sleeves give away their close proximity, colors blending in your sight and untouched by the breeze. Now, 'ole Drake may not be homophobic – for if he was, your friendship would have ended long ago – but to put himself in such a position, such an intimate gesture of relaxing against the warmth and _closeness_ of another man, of the glomp-machine no less, certainly tingled your own senses. And for JJ to maintain that gap, well, you had to give the kid props for that, especially with his usual sense of self-control, both physically and verbally. They're close enough to almost lean together, to support each other, to maintain space, to keep up tension, it could go any way and you're not really sure.

Even disregarding the proximity of their bodies, their faces tell a story all their own. Despite the tiredness still haunting the blonde's stormy eyes, you notice a gentle shine in them that hasn't been there before, a kind of warmth that you can only guess is flowing through the words he continues to speak. And the blunette, the blunette really catches your attention, usual Cheshire cat grin replaced by a calm, almost stoicism, that you've rarely ever seen on his face in all these years.

The blonde stops speaking. No lips move in response or continuation. Two chests rise and fall with even breathes. Two pairs of eyes stare out across the city.

The blunette turns away first, blue eyes a bit spaced-out as he seems to be stepping towards the door.

It takes you a split second to realize what this could mean for you, unwanted audience pressed against the wall and neck turned to watch through the gap. Your heart starts to beat faster. The footsteps are getting louder. You're still trying to decide whether to bolt back down the stairs, or to pretend you just walked up, or…

A second pair of footsteps fall faster than the first, catching up to the first, which had stopped in the sudden movement.

You take a second to breathe, to steady your impulses. You know you should take the chance to leave, but something, curiosity maybe, tells you to stay. So you cautiously turn your head once again to look back, and…

Oh.

They're facing each other, now, side profiles giving you all the details, all the facial expressions you need to figure it out. The blunette is all shock, blue eyes open wide as he looks up at the blonde looking back at him. The older man never loses his calm as he holds onto the younger man's shoulders, lips once again moving in quiet whispers that you still can't make out. The words must be soothing, as you watch the former relax in the hold, eyes become more normal, then half-lidded.

And it's impossible, you just have to be wrong, but you swear that the blonde is moving closer, body almost moving chest to chest, head bending down lower, face meeting the one below him as eyes slide shut and lips stop moving to gently touch…

Wha… (it comes out more like a release of breath than an actual word).

Your brain shudders to a halt in an attempt to absorb what your eyes are trying to tell you.

The kiss is gentle, unforced, _mutual_, all sugar and sweet and intimate and trusting. It's a bit awkward at first, but that quickly fades, and they relax into the other, bodies moving closer than you thought they could. The hold becomes an embrace, and the free arms return the favor as lips slowly move, no longer with words, exploring, but innocent all the same.

They kiss like it's natural, like it's second nature, like it's the only thing that has been missing in their relationship, like it was what they were meant to do all along. And maybe it is the only thing missing, _was_ the only thing missing. You smirk at the thought.

And you can't help but think that this has happened to two better people, to two who are trusting partners, who probably know each other more than you could ever know. To one who has been ready to give all the love he could give with all of his heart. To one who has been waiting for far too long. (You still don't know which describes which.)

You turn your back to the couple, finally giving them the privacy they deserve. As you make your way down the stairs, a mischievous grin spreads across your face, thinking how your partner would react to this new piece of info…

x x x

[Omake]

"Kissing? Well, it's about time…" the blonde-haired detective looked back down at the paperwork he was still sifting through.

"What?! You knew?!" his dark-haired partner exclaimed in disbelief.

"Let's just say, I've noticed something between them more and more these past few weeks," he responded without looking up.

"For someone who had so little insight in himself, he sure can read people…" he murmured.

"What did you say?"

"Nothin', babe."


End file.
